My Problems With Your Problems
by xx.Scarlett
Summary: Everybody has their problems, Lily Evans and James Potter not excluded. But when a transfiguration accident cases an unfortunate body (and problem) swap, bow will they survive the strain of these foreign and dire issues? More importantly, how will they survive a month as each other? 7th Year LE/JP


**Disclaimer:** No of course I am not JK Rowling but even still I'm flattered you might think so *winks obnoxiously* That said, I own none of the characters from the Harry Potter Franchise, even though I WISH I was that creative/gifted. Alas, I am not.

This is my first time writing a Harry Potter fanfic, but I only just read them again for the first time in years and now I'm more or less obsessed. I hope you like this story, and if you do please drop a review and tell me so!:)

Hope you like it!

OOO

Lily Evans both started and finished her day frowning in a four-poster bed with crimson Gryffindor sheets. By the time she was headed off to sleep, of course, it would be in a bed that belonged to someone else -although it looked exactly the same- surrounded by a crew of people who were not her friends, in a body that wasn't even her own.

But when she first woke up on the second Monday in November in her seventh year at Hogwarts, Lily was not cursed—nor was she a boy, and she at the very least had the pleasure of waking up in her own bed, surrounded by her friends. Alice Cavalier, Dorcas Meadowes, Marlene McKinnon, and Mary MacDonald slept soundly and heavily. Alice's snores were the only noises interrupting the still of their dormitory.

A witch like Lily had no alarm clock (although she had looked into spelling one into her brain a few times) so it was up to the sun to do the dirty work. Every morning around six, a few golden rays struck her straight in the eye and told her that she wasn't allowed to dream anymore. Lily's four roommates -and, naturally, best friends at Hogwarts, especially now that a certain Severus Snape was no longer in the picture- assumed that this must have been a nicer way to wake up than how they had to (it was Lily's job to shake them awake -rather viciously, in Marlene's case, as she slept like a block of cement- and seven years rooming together was evidently not enough time to get used to that), but they were wrong.

Lily used to love the sun. When she was young, when she was just a child with the uncanny ability to make grass grow long and clouds turn dark, Lily took the entire summer outside to feel it on her. Sometimes, when letting her mind run rampant wasn't stimulating enough, she might have brought out a book, or a neighbor, or her beloved older sister Petunia to experience the euphoria she did in those precious moments outside. Petunia, of course, never felt the same way about the sun as Lily. She was thirteen when her sister received her Hogwarts letter, and knew all about how the sun provided plants with the essential nutrients they needed, as she had learned so during science class, but never understood the magic of a bright orb nearly ninety-three million miles from her in the way Lily could. Petunia never truly saw the magic in anything, and in the same way, she refused to accept it when she saw it burning in her sister's forest-colored eyes.

Seven years later, her eyes were empty and lifeless and the sun did plenty of burning, as magic used to. During dreams -whenever she was gifted with one, that is- Lily felt untouchable, and the glaring sun took that from her every morning.

On the second Monday of November, which was a day just like any other, Lily pushed her red tresses behind unpierced ears, downed a pint of water, and brushed her teeth in the still of morning. Then she emerged from the bathroom to wake up her friends: first Dorcas, in the bed closest to the wall, then Alice, then Mary, and finally, Marlene. Marlene McKinnon, as usual, put up one heck of a fight, but gave in and got up when Lily threatened to hex her hair blue. Marlene certainly seemed to love her hair: she kept it long and mahogany, and spent nearly an hour on it each morning. Lily knew that weakness, and bitterly exploited it time and time again. That girl was stubborn as an ox, and Lily had run out of patience somewhere in the middle of fourth year.

Mary hummed absentmindedly, lost in her own world as the five girls put on proper robes, did their hair, and put on makeup. It was a routine that was easy for Lily to get lost in: clothes already ready on the edge of the bed; mascara, eyeliner, and a bit of concealer for her plum-colored under-eyes; hair pulled back into the tightest ponytail she could manage; and a floor full of sprawled books to be packed away for today's classes, all set to the backdrop of Blackbird by the Beatles. Lily appreciated the fact that Mary was a muggle-born like herself in moments like this. The serenity of that gentle hum nearly calmed her mind enough to make her smile.

Nearly.

At seven thirty, Lily and her friends took their seats around the Gryffindor table and situated their own conversation into the chaos of the Great Hall. This wasn't helped, of course, by the fact that James Potter and his gaggle of Marauders sat only a few feet from them. The group of four were so noisy and obnoxious it made her delicate mind want to rip itself apart.

Potter and his best friend Sirius Black were the worst of the bunch: constantly yelling about nonsense and planning rather elaborate pranks. Lily was surprised her former fellow Prefect Remus Lupin could even put up with them, and she was especially dumbfounded at her awareness of how much he loved his friends, although she understood Peter Pettigrew's, their fourth's, obsessive adoration. Lily found herself unimpressed, much to the frustration of the imbecile Potter, who was evidently in love with her.

Lily had been used to his pestering and over-done declarations of love, and even got over the initial shock the first time he asked her on a date towards the end of their first year enough to where every time after that (it was uncountable number, piling up as the years went on) was no longer an event. She had not, however, been able to reconcile with the fact that this James Potter was one she had been familiar with.

Since becoming Head Boy of the Gryffindor house, Potter had shown loose responsibility and some semblance of maturity, although Lily refused to accept this ruse and fought him on nearly everything. She figured it had to be some sort of a plot or prank. But while he was acting his age for the first time in his life, Lily was saved of some anger while she was Head Girl. She still hated him, but he surprised her.

"Morning, Evans," Potter smiled cheerfully as if everything was right with the world, "you're looking spectacularly brilliant, nothing new there I suppose."

"Bugger off, Potter." Lily shoved her head into her hands, trying to still the moment and give him the hint that she just so wasn't in the mood. Not that she ever was, and not that he ever seemed to care.

"No need to be rude," interjected Sirius Black, who was at Potter's side as if stuck to him with a permanent sticking charm, "S'okay mate, it's common knowledge that a girl is only mean to a guy when she fancies him."

"You fancy me, Evans?" Potter stifled a gasp and smirked obnoxiously. "You could've told me! We probably could have been married by now! God, there's so much planning to do. Padfoot —my best man, of course— you're in charge of my Bachelor Party, think you can handle it?" Potter turned back to Black and clapped him on the shoulder.

"I have never been so honored in my entire life."

"I think you might have to wait on the whole 'marriage' thing." Remus objected, after peeling his eyes away from his scrambled eggs. No one seemed to notice that Lily's plate was adorned only a handful of almonds and a quarter of a grapefruit, while everyone else stuffed theirs with eggs and sausage and kippers and other fattening foods that would have made the petite redhead vomit. "Wizarding Law states that two people cannot marry until they've completed their education. That said, I wish you both the best of luck."

"Darn then, I guess we'll have to wait a few months. A shame to the whole wizarding community, if you ask me." Remarked James, while Sirius mumbled curiously something along the lines of, "Where did you learn a thing like that where you can spit it out fluently, and when exactly are you planning to pass the text book you clearly swallowed?"

"I dunno, Potter, I'm thinking we'd have to wait a bit longer than that." Lily turned around to glare at them, popping an almond into her mouth. "How about we wait until I'm dead and we can consider our feelings then?"

"Oh no, Love, see I've already planned this out: we're going to die in each other's arms when we're very, very old, surrounded by our many children and their own families, of course."

"What a shame, you will be missed." Sirius sadly proclaimed, putting an arm around his best mate. Peter, who was sitting next to Remus, looked absolutely heartbroken and offered his condolences.

"And I'm sure I won't be if I leave now." Lily got up abruptly, her already nearly empty plate still half full, and bid her friends farewell. She'd see them in History of Magic in only a few minutes, and by now they were used to her skipping out on breakfast a bit early to avoid further contact with the boys she hated the most.

"Oi, Evans, where're you going?" James called, running to catch up with her.

"Leave me alone, Potter, I've had enough of you for today."

"Please, you and I both know we couldn't possibly get enough of each other if we tried." He protested, his tone suggesting that this was an obvious thing that she had missed. "Also, it's my pleasure to remind you that we've got a patrol tonight."

Lily grimaced but stared ahead, determined not to even dignify this interaction by looking at him. "Unfortunately, I haven't forgotten."

"Yes, been looking forward to it all day, I suppose. I can understand that, and I'm also glad we're finally on the same page. Oh wait, you've been in love with me all this time, I've forgotten." James tapped his head, leaving Lily sure that he had lost a few brain cells while doing so. "You sure do have an interesting way of showing it, might I say."

"Get lost, you idiot. I am so surely not in the mood for your stupidity."

"That's because you left breakfast too early, you've hardly eaten anything. I'd be cranky too if I was running on an empty stomach." James took her wrist and pressed an apple into her hand, taking pleasure to trace it with his own fingers as he tightened her hold on his gift. Lily's mouth parted as she was about to tell him off, but James simply winked at her and strutted back to the Great Hall.

Lily, ignoring both the throbbing in her head and her stomach, found the nearest trash can and dumped the apple there.

OOO

James Potter sadly had to report to his friends, as he retreated back through the double doors of the Great Hall, that nothing had changed so far that day; at that point completely unaware that so many things would be changed by the time night fell. They were disappointed, but clearly not surprised. As he sat down and buried himself in sausage, fried eggs, bacon, hash browns, French Toast topped with syrup, and pumpkin juice, he waited to be consoled (the Marauders were always good at that, thank Merlin for them) and told them what happened in the hallway.

"And then I just winked at her, and I smirked or whatever and walked away." James reported, his friends a bit bored but listening for his sake. "Honestly it was a miracle I didn't push her into the nearest classroom and song her senseless. I think I'm getting pretty good at this whole 'willpower' thing, she wasn't too pleased with my hovering mistletoe last year…"

"Hold the owl, c'mon, give it here: show me your smirk, and then show me your wink." Sirius had a firm grasp of James' chin, and the three boys leaned in close to observe. "Uncanny mate, 100% Padfoot-approved. Honestly, it's a miracle she didn't push _you_ into the nearest classroom and song you senseless."

Remus gave a small smattering of applause while Peter pretended to swoon, only to be berated by an annoyed sixth year.

"This is so hard!" James moaned, stuffing his face into his hands. Peter tried his hardest to stifle a giggle and shouted: "That's what Lily said!" And Remus gave a swift (and in James' opinion highly unnecessary) correction of "Not yet, she didn't".

James had been raised with dignified parents, and therefore he knew that patience was a virtue. If he had to wait years, he would do so to finally be with his precious Lily Evans. It would happen someday, he could just feel it.

Remus, and even Peter (who remained neutral on most important matters), thought that it might be hopeless. James understood their doubts, but highly resented them. No, Moony, she hadn't said yes yet, and Yes, Wormtail, he understood that they hadn't kissed yet, but that didn't mean that she wouldn't eventually and they would a million one times when Evans finally realized she loved him.

Besides, all that mattered was that Sirius agreed with him. The way James' best mate had figured it, if a bloke as good looking as Potter was willing to remain chaste (minor exceptions excluded) for a girl who wouldn't give him the time of day for years, he wasn't going to stop doing so when they graduated. If nothing else, his persistence would wear her down eventually (this was something that had proved true in Sirius' experience a multitude of times). It gave James some hope, at the very least.

As eight o'clock grew nearer, the Marauders picked up their things and wandered to History of Magic, Peter's favorite (and James' least). They were in the middle of a unit surrounding some Puritan Battle in the 1700s, when wizards and witches were actually caught and hanged or burned. It sounded like an unsavory fate, especially since most of them were actually muggles, but James had thought that no one would have been cunning enough to catch a real wizard. As it was, a small group of village officials in France was infiltrated by rejected members of the Ministry, and they had started turning people in. James, not caring much in the slightest, spent his time staring across the room at Lily. Blah blah blah… someone important died… blah blah blah… that's another one dead, another two dead, another forty-nine dead… blah blah blah… some sort of a charm… blah blah blah… AURORS!

James was immediately perked up and attentive. He picked up his quill and copied Professor Binns' entire lecture, nearly word for word. Where Aurors were concerned, James Potter seemingly knew absolutely everything. It was one of the strongest of ambitions of his to become one, sometime after he graduated (almost as important to him as making dear Evans go out with him at least once). Not even a snoring Sirius could tempt him now, James hadn't been more attentive in a class that wasn't Defense Against the Dark Arts in longer than he could remember.

Confident that his class notes were more complete than Evans' (who was scribbling furiously for the full hour; James figured must have caused her bone-like arms a good bit of hurt), he dropped his quill and packed up his parchment. Remus took it upon himself to gently shake their shaggy, sleeping friend awake from his stupor (that was, of course, to save Sirius from another soaking day —James had pelted him with bottomless water balloons the last time he fell asleep in class), and they pack-travelled to Double Potions with Professor Slughorn (the only man who seemed to love Lily as much as James himself, or her greasy ex-friend Snivellus), another lunch where James ate everything the house elves had offered, then Muggle Studies (a class darling Lily did not take, being muggle-born she seemed to think it a waste), and Transfiguration with Minnie McGonagall in their last class of the day before dinner.

James had always liked Transfiguration (and he had a knack for it too —how else might he have learned to illegally transition into a stag by the time he turned fifteen?), but these classes were becoming more important than ever. There was some portion of the Auror exam where you had to transfigure things, or transfigure yourself into things, or something along those lines. James was unconcerned, of course… but if he was being completely honest he was beyond terrified. McGonagall —who loved the Marauders, James was sure (even though she pretended to hate them)— had already agreed to meet with him after class a few minutes to master morphing certain limbs into others' (something he was struggling with quite a bit). Poor Prongs had been starving since he left lunch, but this was worth it. Protecting his family, his friends, was worth anything; he needed to have proper Auror skills to do that.

As James practiced turning Sirius' forearm into his own, he couldn't help but keep a possessive hold on his friend. Padfoot could tell that something was wrong, but there were a multitude of things that it could be and none of them were safe to talk about in a crowded classroom such as this.

Still, as James' fingers wrapped tighter and tighter around his best mate's wrist, Sirius actually winced and told him that he doubted "aggression" was a trait Evans found attractive. James apologized and glanced over his shoulder at Lily, who had successfully turned Dorcas Meadowes' (James' star seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, of which he was a rather proud captain) curly blonde bob into a precise copy of her own sleek auburn hair. James adored Lily's hair, and he wished she'd let it down more, and let it hang loose like it did down Dorcas' back then. He didn't know how she could stand a ponytail that tight, like she wore every day. It looked painful, and James most certainly did not want Lily in any pain.

Another afternoon wasted (he had not been able to transfigure his best friend's arm into his own), James watched as his best friend clapped his shoulder and headed off to dinner without him. Professor McGonagall told him she'd be with him in just a minute, and left the classroom to do Godric knows what. James pulled out a scrap of parchment and scribbled a few things to pass the time: a poem or two, a series of initials, a random series of names he liked. All of a sudden, with the squeak of a shoe and an abrupt inhalation, James Potter's hazel eyes were met with the girl he fancied above all. She blanched when she saw him, but James took no notice. Godric, Lily Evans must be the most beautiful girl to exist, he thought. His heart stammered and he ruffled his already unruly black hair as he pulled out the chair next to him, beckoning for her to sit.

Lily did nothing of the sort. "What're you doing, Potter?"

"Waiting for McGonagall. And you, my darling Evans?"

"I need to talk to her about a few things."

"May I ask what?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm practicing to become an Auror."

"You're kidding!" James' exclaimed, his eyes shining with surprise.

Lily's face contorted and she looked at him angrily, as she did so many times. "I most certainly am not, and quite honestly I don't care that you don't think I can do it because I'm a girl, Professor McGonagall thinks-"

"Now what makes you think I'd believe a thing like that?" James asked, a bit hurt. Honestly, the brains Lily possessed were more than James or anyone else their age could dream of, and at once he was surprised he hadn't considered sooner that she might want to be an Auror. It was nearly the highest of all the jobs, who wouldn't want that? "I'm here for the same thing."

"You want to become an Auror?" Lily asked, almost accusatorially. James tried to hide the hurt and resentment he felt from that statement.

"I do." He defended. "I'm just having trouble with that trait-switching charm. Tricky little bugger, no matter how hard I concentrated the spell just wouldn't cooperate."

"That's peculiar." She considered, walking a bit closer to James. "It's a fairly easy spell, I thought."

"Yes, we already know that you're brilliant, Evans, no need to brag about it." James rolled his eyes.

"No that's not at all what I meant, you dolt. You act it sometimes, but I know you aren't stupid. You've my only competition for years for top marks in Transfiguration." James grinned at her, glad she was keeping track of him. "What did you try to switch?"

"Well, as you breezed ahead with number sixteen, I got stuck on limb #2."

Lily stifled a laugh. "You couldn't even transfigure the forearm?"

"God, Woman, do you even listen?"

Lily glared at him viciously. "Don't you call me that."

"What, is there a different pronoun you'd prefer? Would 'Sir' be better, or do you want me to jump straight to 'it' and 'they'?" Lily scowled and crossed her arms.

"Merlin, Potter, you are so insufferable!"

"And you have a finger that isn't yours!" Lily's eyes widened as she looked down and saw that her left ring finger was longer than her own, and painted blue. The rest of her fingers were unpolished, James noticed.

"Bloody Hell, I must have forgotten to switch back limb #7 then…" Lily said a quick spell and pointed her wand at the mismatched finger. It became normal immediately, and James sulked.

"Please tell me how you did that."

"It's fairly simple, Potter. I do suppose I could teach you then." Lily walked over to him and James drew a breath. She pretended not to notice, but scowled to herself. Merlin, even growling she was absolutely enchanting. "Raise your wand to my eye level, we're going to try transfiguring #5."

"I haven't even been able to switch a forearm yet, how am I supposed to switch your chin for mine?"

"It's easier than #2, really. Just take a breath, cast your want down four inches, then jut it to the right rather abruptly, and say 'reformabit inferiore facie figure'. Maintain eye contact, and don't forget to breathe."

James tried it once and nothing happened. He gave her a look, but she urged him to continue. He got the move down on his third try, and his eyes gleamed with such a childlike wonder that Lily was sure the seventeen-year-old she was teaching was actually a bright-eyed first year. She chuckled under her breath, sure James wouldn't notice. But he did, and he smiled even wider because of it. After removing the charm, they skipped to #9, transfiguring the angle of one's nose onto the other's face. It took James only two tries. They went to #3 after that, followed by #12, then #7 and #10. James mastered each, under her expert teaching, in no more than a dozen tries.

"Alright, let's go back to #2 now." Lily said, satisfied with their progress. "Downward cast seven inches, diagonal flick on a 180 degree angle, and say 'reformabit regionis antebrachii'. Remember your breathing."

James concentrated so hard that he didn't hear McGonagall pattering down the hallway towards them, but when he finally caught sight of her, a smile on her face so wide and proud it made his heart swell, his one-track mind became irreversibly muddled. James was so sure he must have done something wrong; his concentration had wavered, after all, and he stopped breathing. But sure enough, he looked at the figure across from him, he recognized his own forearm. He smiled in triumph, before realizing something was off. From where he stood, he could no longer see Professor McGonagall (although he knew she was around here somewhere, in a doorframe he couldn't spot). Neither could he stand at the same vantage he used to have, or look at the pride in Evans' emerald eyes. He must have gone on a wrong angle, cast too few inches, or croaked out the wrong words in the wrong tone or something, because he had done a lot more than switch their forearms.

Lily and James had switched bodies.


End file.
